


Immaculate

by yuffiehighwind



Series: An Eternity in Cheese Country [33]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Dual Identity, F/M, Milwaukee, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-01
Updated: 2004-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it fact or fiction, fable or history? It's hard to tell anymore. Dave's still all for forgetting. Things don't matter, real or fake, when he's nearby, or when he's inside her. When he laughs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immaculate

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 'fic series "An Eternity in Cheese Country," and here's why - after they were killed by Callisto and Xena, the souls of Strife, Discord, and Deimos were reincarnated in the late 20th century into three humans named Steve, Veronica, and Dave.

The room is still immaculate, which twists the knife in Veronica's gut. Being the habitat of that creature across the room, she feels the atmosphere should hold more fog, more smoke, and the walls should contain some offensive pattern like plaid stripes or small furry mammals. No. It is white. The volume on the creature's headphones isn't even audible from where she's sitting. There is no provocation in the creature's domain or demeanor. Like previous weeks, Veronica came in, gave her name, sat down, and watched Cherile groove to those retro beats until Dennis, frazzled and nicotine stained, opened the door to a more colorful world for forty-five minutes. Cherile - the creature - likely didn't notice the choking whiteness of the office absorbed in her magazines and nail polish. The ficus was new, that much Veronica could hate her for.  
  
This would be the last call on Dennis. Legally, Veronica was free of mandatory psychiatric care that had been dictated by the courts. One cow was forgivable. Two would mean prison or worse. Veronica was, thankfully for the cows, restricted from farms, even her acquaintance Melanie's. She knew if she had stepped onto the girl's plot again, her father had a nice vintage shotgun waiting, and that was deterral enough. She was a disturber of the peace, a murderer of cows. Veronica was a murderer of far worse than anyone realized, including herself, but that was hush and left to long gone days.                  
  
Dennis was more forthcoming on this final day than on the day of their meeting, due to the affection that grew over the course of their very unprofessional relationship. Transference at its height - or lowest? - occurred many times on that maroon leather sofa, Dennis (not even a real psychologist) taking the brunt of Veronica's feeling toward her brother with whom she'd had a meaty, complex incestuous relationship.  
  
He didn't believe any of it, which was why the whole thing petered out. In fact, Veronica only continued to show up and Dennis continued to let her because of the court mandate. He had to conduct a psychiatric evaluation and pass it in. It was blatantly forged, but since the killing of cows in passionate bursts of rage was so rare (at the time), most officials in the city preferred the case to quietly die.  
  
Aside from such formalities, Veronica stayed only to retrieve some of her belongings, which actually were overdue back at the strip club she'd worked at. A few outfits, and several forgotten thongs. And a battery-operated device of unknown origin highly suspected to be the work of her roommate Steve's mad KGB scientist ex-boyfriend. Dennis was skeptical of this detail as well, but Veronica swore on the last remains of her mother (believed to have been disintegrated in a cave somewhere near Cronus' tomb) it was all true.  
  
The visit lasted a bit shorter than Veronica expected after this revelation, which only supported the dumping of Dennis even more.  
  
Exiting his office, Veronica once again passed through Cherile's annoyingly perfect waiting room. The secretary looked up, snapping her gum, a vaguely sad expression flashing across her features. Veronica quelled the urge to punch it off the girl's face.  
  
"Ya leavin' for good?" the girl asked, gum snapping obnoxiously.  
  
All Veronica could say through clenched teeth was, "Yes."  
  
"Aww," moaned Cherile. "That's too bad." Was that sarcasm? Shit, the girl - the creature - was being sincere. Veronica paused in her step and walked over to the desk. There was something she needed to know.  
  
"If I were to stop by Dave's place... "  
  
Cherile's mouth - still with gum in it - hung open in suspense. Veronica struggled to get out the rest of her burning question. It involved not white rooms, fake psychologists, or unbelievable pasts, but a boy - well, more like a man - she couldn't bear seeing _this_ girl all over. Constantly.  
  
"...would you pretty much always be there?"  
  
Cherile's mouth snapped shut. Her eyebrows came together and separated a few times. Was this what all humans looked like when they were at a loss for words?  
  
"Actually... "  
  
That was it; Veronica knew her answer. Why'd she do the bitch thing and _ask?_ Oh yeah, because that's what she was born to do but sadly forgotten.  
  
"...me and Dave broke up a couple nights ago."  
  
Veronica didn't hear her. She slammed into the next statement.  
  
"I know, I know it's a terrible thing to ask. I mean, why should I have anything against you? Fuck, it's practically your place too. And not like I got any claim on the boy. You understand. Uh, a family thing. He being Steve's brother and all, and there's nothing funny about--What the fuck did you just say?"  
  
"I said we broke it off a couple nights ago."  
  
_Was that a smile?_  
  
"What did you ...What was that?"  
  
_Kill it 'til it's dead_.  
  
Cherile balked at this change. "Ugh, I said we broke up, okay? Jesus. Ya don't hafta look like ya won the lottery or nothin'."  
  
_Don't smile._  
  
"I'm not. I am most certainly not. I'd...We should get together. It's just Dave is...He and I... "  
  
_Don't laugh._  
  
"Ugh," Cherile groaned. "I know you two got a thing. In fact, that's why I dumped the fuckwad. Now go do yer damn incest dance and get outta my office."  
  
_Don't dance._  
  
"Thanks. Ya know what? Thank you. Thanks a lot."  
  
Cherile looked disgusted now.  
  
"Don't hafta be all sarcastic, Miss Bitch. Now get out."  
  
"No, I mean it. If not for you, I'd never have seen 'fuckwad' again."  
  
Dennis chose this time to poke his head out.  
  
"What's all this yelling? Can I watch?"  
  
Veronica spun around, box of stuff in hand, and dropped it.  
  
"Keep your shit. Tokens of a hot stuff lost. I'm going to go see about a boy."  
  
Dennis could only stare.  
  
Once she was gone and Cherile had calmed down, she gum-snapped and said, "Twat stole that from 'Good Will Hunting.'"  
  
The "doctor" shook his head.  
  
"What do you _do_ here?"  
  
"I'm yer secretary," she squealed petulantly.  
  
He reached into his pocket, taking out cigarettes and a lighter. Smoking, he replied, "I'm not even a real doctor. Go the fuck home."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
At the bus stop, Cherile found a less complicated if not content Veronica finishing a butt. She spit her gum at the woman and glared daggers. Her bus arrived and, putting out her cigarette, the woman climbed aboard, paid the fare, and sat in a front window seat. As the bus pulled away, Veronica waved to the girl and then flipped her off. A fuming Cherile screamed in frustration.

 

* * *

  
  
On the street with the dead man's name, Veronica found herself gazing up at Dave's apartment building. She dared not ring the bell and instead stood in procrastination on the street, hoping he'd happen by like he did a night long before. No one came.  
  
Figuring it was Fate's cruel joke - and she knew the Fates loved their occasional bad jokes - Veronica turned on her heel and left for home.  
  
Across town, in front of her own building, she found Dave sitting on the stoop in silent contemplation. Then she realized he was dead asleep. Hoping he wasn't dead, she spoke.  
  
"Dave."  
  
No response. Shit.  
  
"Hey, Dave."  
  
A shoulder shake couldn't hurt.  
  
"Wake up, Deimos!"  
  
For that was his true name before all this nonsense.  
  
An eyelid opened, just barely, as though weighed down by great rocks. His chapped lips followed suit.  
  
"Discord, fancy meetin' here."  
  
She sat down beside him and forced open the other eye. He blinked in protest.  
  
"What are you doing? You scared me half to death."  
  
He grinned widely, like a shark to its dinner.  
  
"Guess I did my job, then."  
  
Veronica tried not to smile.  
  
"So where ya been?" he asked. "I've been sittin' here all day."  
  
Containing her surprise, she replied, "I was across town."  
  
"Oh. Whatcha doing way over there?"  
  
 She sighed. "Looking for you."  
  
"Found me." Then he laughed. Hideously. Veronica covered her ears and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Aw, honey, I thought you _invented_ discord."  
  
"Yeah," she snorted. "Music to my ears."  
  
"You're music to my eyes," he said, reaching out to brush back her hair.  
  
"That makes no sense."  
  
He shrugged. "So what? Neither does this."  
  
_Don't kiss me._  
  
The stars still fade in and out of their old shapes. Kings and monsters can't stay still for Veronica's eyes, and so she can't decide which memories are real and which aren't. She can't figure out if cows can talk or cousins can just look mortal men in the eyes to make them shit their pants. It's hard to tell which is home - Milwaukee or Athens. Veronica supposes this place she now is could be home. After the past year and a half, it rightly should be, but there's too much to sort out, forgotten or remembered. Most doesn't make any sense, like this moment. Is it fact or fiction, fable or history? It's hard to tell anymore. Dave's still all for forgetting. Things don't matter, real or fake, when he's nearby, or when he's inside her. When he laughs.

 

* * *

  
Cherile plans on doing some forgetting herself. Forgetting the white room. Forgetting Dave or Dennis or Miss Bitch, or even this city. She has plans. And she wants her lava lamp back.  
  
Her story's not over, though the immaculate room may be. Dennis is moving out and the newcomer is repainting it. She's painting it bright pink.  
  
"This is gonna be one groovy time. Who'da thunk that Love wouldn't ever be old hat. Right, Cupie?"  
  
"O' course, Ma."  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Did it have to be bright pink, though?"  
  
"Shush."  
  



End file.
